The Finer Things
by FallArbor
Summary: And there it was…so un-tethered from reality as to defy caricature. NaruSaku


**Full Summary: **The finer things in life – the essence of which Haruno Sakura was in full understanding and utter complacency. Danse Bacchanale cannot be explained! It can only be felt! And there it was…so un-tethered from reality as to defy caricature.

**Rating Notice:** It's T for suggestive themes at the end, and hints of almost foul language.

**Author's Note:** This isn't really a song-fic in the conventional sense, because you can't call Bolero a song, and I think Camille Saint-Seans would roll over in his grave if he were aware of my flagrant abuse of his Danse Bacchanale. It's a story of the theater, and it relies heavily on Sakura's background of being a rather clever girl.

There are no words to these songs. You don't need to research lyrics, or look up the pieces – you just need to feel. You need to know what it's like to listen to something, to see something, to _know_ something so instinctively and primordially that it makes you, for at least a second, a million years old, and the happiest thing on earth. Because that's what this is about, even if it takes a while to get there.

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The Finer Things

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"To be honest, I never took you for such a girly girl, Sakura-chan,"

Haruno Sakura's deadpanned expression drew sharp contrast against her startlingly vibrant kimono. She tossed him a hard look, and he recoiled slightly.

"Ah, ah, you know what I mean!" He rubbed the back of his neck, "It's like an opera!"

She could barely contain herself.

"Uzumaki Naruto, it is absolutely!" She stepped towards him ominously, "positively, _not_ – let me repeat myself – not like an opera at all!"

He offered her a rueful smile.

"Don't give me that 'Oh I'm just ignorant Naruto' smile, I know it way too well. You're coming with me whether you like it or not, because trust me," and she smiled, a small quirk of the lips, but beautiful and red like the morning sun, "you will enjoy yourself."

She caught the muffled mutterings of his hushed complaints as he trudged into his apartment to put on some finer clothes, but she _knew_ he deserved every second of his misery.

Oh yes, she had paid a pretty penny for the balcony seat at the Konoha Philharmonic theatre, and she had paid another pretty penny for Naruto's spot next to hers. And she _told _him months ago to dress nicely. Nicely!

_That's not your stupid orange jumpsuit, baka!_

She walked in after the mental outburst, and eyed the upholstery critically. Such drab coloring. He really needed a woman's touch – or at least a color wheel.

_Orange…white…orange…white...pink…_

"Hmm…"

A photograph, iridescent in the soft glow of the twilight's setting sun, showed the glittery eyes of herself and her current teammates, grinning at whatever the joke of the day was. Probably Naruto.

_Definitely Naruto._

Wrenching her eyes from the picture, she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror (_stupid baka leaving all the doors open_) and wondered faintly if she was overdressed. It had been ages since her mother had brought her to see the last performance – it had been a formal occasion, but she was young and innocent, and her mother dressed her in the current fashion, and it was probably nice, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what anyone else had on.

It didn't matter.

She shrugged, mentally, and grinned at her reflection,

_Hey there, Miss Haruno_

The kimono was an opalescent crimson, shifting colors melting through the silk like hot iron wine in a glossy filter, and her earrings were some sort of fake diamond set in silver (_Ino-buta claims they're real, but let's be honest here_).

"You look good,"

She whipped around, slightly embarrassed about her being enamored by her own reflection, slightly indignant about him sneaking up on her regardless, but mostly flattered, because he was usually too scared to make comments about her looks unless he was being totally honest.

So she blushed.

"Oh, the great Sakura is mortal after all!"

"What?" her eyes narrowed.

It wasn't a question insomuch as a chance for Naruto to redeem his life. He didn't often get these get out of pain free cards, and immediately jumped at the chance.

"So we're gonna be late, huh?!" He gesticulated as wildly as he could in his blazer, "Come on, let's get this show on the road! I can't wait!"

"I'm glad you're too stupid to use sarcasm, Naruto-_kun_, or else you'd be _dead_ right now."

She cracked her knuckles.

_Okay…enough wisecracks_ He gulped and straightened his tie.

At that point, Naruto had remained silent enough for her to absorb exactly what he had thrown together as formal wear. He had on slacks, midnight blue, and a matching blazer to go with it – cufflinks that glittered in a way that put her _real_ (_she swore!_) earrings to shame, and a tie, black, elegant and simple like the keys of a piano.

_Still grinning like a…Naruto_

"You look good too," she said at last, checking her image in the mirror a final time before exiting, leaving Naruto slightly dazed.

"She's getting soft!" He crooned to himself, softly, ever so softly, to avoid the prying ears of his bat-like teammate.

"What was that?!"

"I said this pillow's soft, now let's get out of here!"

_Like a bat, damnit!_

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"So how far is it anyway?" He asked sullenly, a pout gracing his countenance before quickly scurrying at the look she threw at him.

"Not. That. Much. Further."

"Fine, fine…"

It was a balmy evening, significant only in the time of year – early April, unusually humid for the budding spring. Twilight was beginning to fade against the smothering canopy of blue that blanketed the eastern sky, and the moon was barely visible against the tinges of violet that frayed the horizon like ethereal fire.

"It's really nice out," he said at last, gazing past the civilian shops and glowing neon of industry.

"It is," she agreed, eyeing him warily.

He had been making comments like that with disturbing frequency of late, and she was rather concerned – this appreciation of nature was, without a doubt, some mark of maturity (perhaps a rite of passage from all the lazy teachers they had been prone to acquiring), but she couldn't help but notice how distant his voice was, and how far away he was when he said those things.

It was like he was up there, wherever he was looking, but with a despairing aimlessness. Like he was falling up and there was nothing to guide his upward descent but stars millions and millions of miles away that just winked at him as he floated by.

It was very, very, Un-Naruto of him. Or maybe it was just the opposite. She couldn't tell, but she was confident that tonight would change those things.

He would hear the sounds that inspired the best of men. Men like him.

She sighed.

"There it is!" He shouted, exuberant and proud and extremely familiar to her.

She chuckled.

"You're right, but you don't need to tell the whole world, baka!" A playful barb on her part, and he responded in kind.

"Why not, eh? The world should know of my exploits!"

"I'm not sure if the world really cares about the world record of Ramen eaten in one sitting"

"Ehh, I know you appreciate my ability to help the local restaurants stay in business!"

"Yeah, yeah…"

She stopped, abruptly, as the edifice rose into the sky – the building, while not tall in stature, had the charisma of the big city. It was expansive and booming, towering over the nearby houses with hearty repose, and it felt, _felt_, like it would stretch on endlessly into the night if you stepped inside and looked high enough.

The light refracted against golden chandeliers, and Naruto gagged slightly at the sheer amount of wealth that the entrance hall was drenched in.

"Oh close your mouth, Naruto!"

"Sakura-chan…" He gaped, "How much did these tickets cost you?" he continued in a whisper.

She leaned in closely, her lips just barely grazing his ear,

"I'm. not. Telling."

Her whisper was hot and fast, and he quickly jumped away from her chuckling form.

"You're such a dork!" she laughed.

He rubbed his neck, embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Naruto, this is my treat. I wanted to really give you something special tonight."

He smiled gratefully at her, but frowned immediately after.

"What?" she asked, smile faltering.

"So you two are finally doing it, eh?"

"Nani?!" She wheeled around, coming face to face with a toady man with a great mane of white hair. "Not like that ya pervy lech," Sakura nearly shouted, startling some of the nearby aristocrats.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Ero-Sennin? This is for classy people." He pointed at the chandeliers.

"Explain your own presence, then, pipsqueak."

"Oh shut the fu-"

"Quiet!" Sakura cut him off. She turned to the Sannin, "What _are_ you doing here, anyway, I thought you were in Tea country."

"Business," he shrugged, and slinked through the crowd.

"'Research' for his next novel?" Sakura tried to stay civil.

"Yeah, it's probably called 'Sex Mania at the Opera'."

"For the last time, it's _not_ an –"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Opera, got it."

He nodded with a sage-like sagacity and marched on, not quite sure where he was going, but happy with the knowledge that Sakura was probably completely confused.

"It's this way, maestro." She pointed at a crowded aperture with a torrent of people flooding through. "Starts in a couple of minutes, so we should get a move on."

"Alright, alright."

The amphitheater was crowded and stuffy – people lined the rows like black and white dominos, tuxedoed penguins that marched in bobbing frenzy to their positions.

He couldn't help but laugh at the site. It was all so _formal_.

"What's the deal here, Sakura-chan? They look like they're ready for a funeral."

"It's like this because these experiences are solemn, Naruto," she leveled her eyes at him with total seriousness, an utter earnestness that made him feel naked and alive. "This…there is no explaining it. You'll understand. I know you will."

He smiled at her – not a grin, not a smirk, and certainly not a grimace – but a smile. It was pure and innocent, a child waiting to learn all the secrets of the world, and knowing that it _will_ happen because the most meaningful thing in the world told you it would.

She grabbed his hand (_So rough, not like preening girls here!_) and led him up the winding marble staircase, ivory statues monitoring the hall with the uncaring vigilance of the immobile – their stares, blank and vacant, seemed slightly alive, as if in anticipation of becoming more than a doppelganger.

"This is so weird, Sakura-chan!"

"I know, I kno-"

"But it's good." He concluded quickly, silencing her with his cheery eyes.

And there they were: two seats, with deep sapphire cushions with slightly worn edges faded with use and time, waiting silently for their would-be occupants.

"Come on, Naruto!" She ran as fast as he could in her high heels, clicking across the thinly covered floor like a typewriter.

"Alright, alright" he followed her tentatively, his feet shuffling in mild apprehension, while his head soared at the grandeur of the theatre.

All the movement and life surrounding them, seemingly instantly, began to die down to the hushed crescendo of hundreds whispering with great excitement. The soft padding footsteps of the conductor, a willowy man in his fifties, with graying hair and soft eyes, led to an eruption of clapping that spread throughout the auditorium in a fiery blanket of noise, and again, after a moment's enjoyment, silence had taken captive of the audience.

The curtains rose, revealing the sallow faces of seemingly ancient men with an assortment of instruments – ebony oboes floating precariously among French horns and clarinets, all surrounded by a sea of wonderfully crafted violins and cellos.

"They look so…tired!" Naruto exclaimed in a rushed whisper, much to the chagrin of the men and women immediately adjacent to them.

"Shh…"

He shook his head and returned his attention to the stage. All was motionless.

"Naruto," Sakura breathed, barely more than a thought escaping from her slightly parted mouth.

"Yeah?" he whispered, likewise.

"I'm really glad you're here."

And then it happened: Movement. With a brilliant flash, the conductor had stretched his baton high in the air, stretching beyond the limits of human imagination into the realm of absurdity, and crashing the relic through the air like a soaring dove – sound, glorious and melodic and utterly breathtaking exploded through the enormous room, making the walls shrink and barriers disappear until all that existed were the ethereal tendrils of music that enveloped each onlooker with such total and complete power that the ground groaned and trembled at the thought of continued attendance.

Sakura's eyes, wide and totally unaware of anything else but her friend and her music, danced in the wild light of the soft lanterns hanging above them. It was magic.

It was so _alive_.

She glanced at Naruto for an instant, and was captivated by his stricken visage – he looked weary and old, but his eyes, his azure, bright, incredible eyes, seemed more energetic than she had ever seen.

The ostinato beat of Ravel's Bolero ticked through the floor like a metronome from hell, lighting the world aflame in the stubbornness of beauty and ostentation of grace, and Naruto knew that this was the same thing he felt whenever he had won a battle, the same thing that he felt whenever his eyes passed over the form of his loveliest friend.

Totally and unequivocally _alive_.

The music was the glory of his heroes, his father, his loved ones smiling down at the village in the shining splendor of all that was triumph – the triumph of cynicism, beaten into innocence and devoid of mercy – the triumph of all that was wrong in the world, and victory, if only for the seven hundred measures of respite it offered. It was then that Naruto found Sakura's words to be the truest he had ever heard – that it wasn't just a song; that it wasn't music at all. It was the feeling of total exultation in the beauty of everything he had ever known and cared about, the revitalization of his wildest hopes and dreams, and the rebirth of the soul, crying and weeping from the magnitude of what was being played.

It was teamwork.

It was the composite of several people, after years of practice and hardship, becoming totally alive for seven minutes on stage, because from the time they wet their reeds and grasped their bows to the time they dropped it all and left, they were the givers and the dreamers of dreams.

It was _sensual_.

And then it was over.

A final note, remnants of a faded flutist, hung in the air in heart-wrenching fermata, and proceeded to die, a phoenix in flame.

"Oh."

It was all he could say.

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The span of two hours found both Haruno Sakura and Uzumaki Naruto walking in the lazy fog of recent climax, home, or wherever, because their legs weren't obeying the orders of their muddled brains.

"That was just-"

"I know,"

"It was just so-!"

"I know, Naruto,"

"But it was so-!"

"I know, Naruto, I know exactly how you feel."

"How?!"

"Because I feel it too."

He paused.

"Oh."

It was all he could say.

The air was cooler now, a soft shell of refreshing frost that couldn't penetrate the heat that had burrowed under their skin. It was a soft heat, but hardy and tough, the remains of the permeating scorches of Maurice Ravel.

The stars stood still.

It seemed, after the performance, that everything did.

"Sakura," He continued at last,

She gazed up at him, eyes like dishes under velvety lashes, her pale cheeks glowing ivory in the incandescent moonlight.

"I really wanted to thank you. But I can't think of any possible way. I mean, you spent all this money and you took me here and-"

"And I couldn't have been happier with whom I asked to come, and on whom I spent the money. You're one of my precious people, Naruto…"

He grabbed ahold of her hand and stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Even if you don't think you deserve it, then. _Thank you_."

She turned away, ignoring the tingling in her cheeks and the blood whirling through her veins, in rabid frenzied race to her head.

He grinned, but kept his hold on her hand, swinging it idly on their journey to nowhere.

She turned back and smiled, light and graceful on her now pale lips.

The streets were empty, save for the casual passerby that walked in and out of their lives without so much as a greeting – but it was all the same to them, because the night was still young and they were hopelessly in love with some fragment of imagination that floated between them, a memento of their two hour tryst with Camille Saint-Seans and Ravel.

"Do you want me to take you home, Sakura-chan?" He spoke into the night, his breath crystallizing into nothingness.

"No." She answered frankly.

He chuckled.

"It's getting late, and I don't want to be the reason you're late for your shift tomorrow."

"I don't want to not be with you. " She continued bluntly, making him falter mid-step.

"Sakura-chan, I'm glad to be with you too."

"I know," she responded quietly, proceeding to the tips of her toes and into his lips, softly recreating the nocturnal magic.

"Oh,"

It was all he could say.

He threw his middle finger in the air behind him, pushing her into a nearby wall and forgetting everything but the music they were making.

And so it was, an event so un-tethered from reality as to defy caricature.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"No, they're just talking." He sighed into his transceiver, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Yes I'm sure!"

He rubbed his eyes of the early sleep driving in, and he rolled onto his knees.

_This is ridiculous, she never wins a bet_.

Upon hearing more shrill words from his speaker, he sighed again.

"I know, I know, it was a _sure_ fire deal. I don't care."

More shouting from the speaker.

"Don't give me that, I'm doing this as a favor!" He whispered harshly back, "wait."

The pair below joined at the mouth.

"Aha! Looks like you were right after all, Tsunade" He snickered into the microphone. "Oh wait, the runt's onto me, just flashed me the bird. I'm getting out of here"

Jiraiya bounded off the rooftops into the soft night, leaving the pair to their dreams.

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"Sakura," He whispered against her neck, their naked bodies entwined on his ruffled bed.

"I'm here, Naruto."

As if to say: _This is real_.

Because she knew the finer things in life, and this was among the finest.

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**eeeeeeennnnnnddddd**

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Double negative! I imagine I've used those too, in real speech, so please don't yell at me!

**Cheers,**

FallArbor


End file.
